


Ideal Match, Required

by Minervas_Revenge



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Hogwarts Professors, Room of Requirement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2021-01-29 00:35:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21401245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minervas_Revenge/pseuds/Minervas_Revenge
Summary: Lonely, Professor Hermione Granger finds solace in the Room of Requirement. Is what happens there, real? Can she trust the wizard beyond the Room?
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Lucius Malfoy
Comments: 75
Kudos: 243





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Another WIP that I'm posting before it's fully written. I know, I know. But I'm inspired to write this (yes, right now) and have it somewhat plotted. I can't think of a better title - if you do, please share. XD This hadn't been beta-read. Sorry not sorry.

Apparently, the Christmas hols at Hogwarts were meant for snogging. Hermione Granger, new Transfiguration Professor, had discovered and put a halt to not one, not two, but three pairs of snogging students in unused classrooms and broom closets.

Happening upon the steamy intimacy left Hermione more lonely than she’d felt in some time. She longed for a partner. None of the other professors were near enough to her age for her to even consider an arrangement of convenience, let alone attempt a romantic connection.

Near-empty bottle of wine in-hand, Hermione found herself on the seventh floor, drunkenly and playfully wondering how fully the Room of Requirement might fulfil her needs.

Focusing with as much concentration as she was able in her inebriated state, Hermione paced back and forth before the wall that housed the Room of Requirement.

_“Someone real… Someone living… Someone single… My ideal match… Someone to take away my loneliness… Someone to take my damned virginity…” _she furiously thought.

Daring to crack her eyes open, Hermione was pleasantly surprised to see that a door had appeared. After the Fiendfyre incident, she wasn’t certain how much of the enchanted room had survived.

Giddy with what she’d asked for, Hermione’s palm was clammy on the door. Regardless, she pushed it open and stepped into a cavernous bedroom, dominated by a four-poster bed and lit by gentle candlelight.

When her eyes fell on the wizard standing before the fireplace, the forgotten bottle of wine slipped from Hermione’s fingers. She’d know that hair, anywhere…

Lucius Malfoy turned quickly at the sound of shattering glass.

“Hermione Granger,” he said in his strangely modulated voice.

Mind spinning, Hermione didn’t reply and she couldn’t seem to move her feet. Was he real?

“Where are we?” he asked.

“The Room of Requirement,” she finally replied, voice quiet.

“At Hogwarts…” Lucius mused then added, “You _require_ something of me..?”

Specter or not, Hermione would only benefit from talking things out. “I asked for my ideal match to…”

“Your _ideal match_…” Lucius repeated, brows arched.

“Yes… I would have never guessed it would be you.” Hermione muttered, recovering from her shock. Lucius didn’t need to know every sordid detail of what she ‘required.’

Catching up with her actions, Hermione hastily vanished her broken bottle and closed the door after stepping fully into the room. Her gaze noted shelves beside the bed. There were books and… And… Mother of Merlin! The Room had supplied a variety of erotic paraphernalia, most of which, Hermione had never before seen. A hot blush crawled up her neck. Had Lucius seen them..?

A cart of glass decanters appeared beside the wizard. “I could become accustomed to this,” Lucius murmured, helping himself.

If he’d noticed the shelves beside the bed, he gave no indication.

Watching as Lucius poured himself a drink, Hermione’s mind folded in on itself, once more. It was an elaborate detail that a specter generated by the Room would want a drink and provide a cart. The tiny hairs on the back of Hermione’s neck stood straight up. He was part of the room… Wasn’t he..? Was it possible the room had summoned the wizard, himself..? …Was he wearing anything under his dressing robe?

“Are you real..?” she wondered.

Lucius sipped deeply from the tumbler in his hand before fixing her with his pale gaze. He lifted a brow. “I believe I am…”

“Aren’t you supposed to be..?”

“In Azkaban,” he replied with a sharp glance. “For five more months.”

At a loss, Hermione remained stubbornly by the door. Had she conjured Lucius Malfoy from his prison cell?

Two comfy chairs appeared before the fireplace. Lucius shot Hermione a lingering glance, looking her down, then up. His eyes narrowed as they darted thoughtfully towards the bed and then back to her face.

“Tell me about this room…” Lucius said and gestured for Hermione to take one of the chairs.

Hermione reasoned that he had, indeed, seen the contents of the shelves. Legs stiff with anticipation, she took a stumbling first step but quickly caught herself and walked to the overstuffed chair before the fire. Not until she sat down did she realize that she wore only a cobalt negligee that left little to the imagination.

“It’s suspected this room has some sentience… It can be entered by persons in real need. And it will be equipped with whatever the person needs…” Hermione explained, drawing her legs up under her in the chair. She felt his gaze but couldn’t bring herself to meet it.

“Ah,” he replied. “Is it any relation to the Room of Hidden Things?”

“One and the same. Or, it was. I’m not convinced all of its aspects survived a bout of Fiendfyre…”

The wizard’s lack of further questions confirmed that he knew of the tragic incident.

After a lengthy silence in which Hermione stared at the crackling fire, Lucius set aside his empty tumbler with a clack.

“Ms. Granger,” he began. Not until Hermione finally looked at him did he continue. “It is by your will I am here and not shivering in a miserable cell. Is there something you wish of me..?”

Where was her legendary Gryffindor courage? Hermione couldn’t seem to form a coherent word. The notorious Malfoy patriarch was asking if there was something he could do for her.

“I don’t – I can’t…” she helplessly shrugged, feeling her face warm, once more.

“I understand loneliness,” he offered in a near-inaudible hiss.

“Your wife..?” Hermione asked, genuinely interested.

“Gone,” Lucius replied bitterly.

“I’m sorry.”

“She’s happier.”

Hermione couldn’t keep her gaze from the man. She supposed him to be just a bit older than her father. Of all wizards, why him?

“You’ve got a question,” Lucius prompted. “Your eyes give everything away,” he added.

With a lifted brow, Hermione threw caution to the wind. “I was just thinking ‘of all wizards, why you?’”

“Don’t you know..?”

Surprised, Hermione met his pale gaze.

“I’m your _ideal match_,” he replied with a glint in his eye that made Hermione’s insides melt.

Hermione was too shocked at being teased by Lucius Malfoy to laugh.

“What, precisely, did you intend to _do_ with me..?” he purred, leaning towards her.

Pinned by his heavy-lidded gaze, Hermione’s mind went blank. The wizard stood and moved until he was towering over her. She watched, utterly captivated, not to mention still a little drunk, as he slowly leaned towards her, hands braced on the arms of her chair. Hermione’s limbs tingled with anticipation.

“The contents of this room leave little doubt…” he whispered.

Face warm with embarrassment, Hermione lifted her hand and drew slender fingertips down his jaw.

“None of this is real…”

“Of course not,” Lucius hissed.

His lips tasted like whisky and his breath ignited her skin.

Lucius kissed her as if sipping from her; tantalizingly pressing his lips to hers for soft, lingering moments. When he leaned in and slipped his tongue assertively up her neck, Hermione forgot how to breathe.

He plucked her from the chair and carried her to the bed as if she weighed nothing. His arm around her waist lifted her, sliding her up the bed, settling her so that her head rested on pillows, and he followed to lay beside her.

Examining the man so close with such intimacy was surreal. Being inebriated allowed her to study his pale eyes without shame; he considered her in return, a hint of consternation between his brows.

“Don’t stop, now,” she whispered, shyly lifting a hand to touch his chin. Her fingertips caressed his stubbled jaw and smoothed across his lower lip. A hand wrapped around her wrist, holding her fingers to his mouth. With a groan, he sucked the tip of her index finger and gently drew it between his teeth. Hermione filled with sudden heat and gave a sharp gasp.

“Anything in particular you like..?” he asked in a low tone, keeping a firm hold on her wrist.

Hermione blinked at him as her brain attempted to come up with an answer.

“I like your eyes,” she said softly.

A chuckle rumbled through the wizard. “That isn’t what I meant but thank you.”

“I know,” Hermione replied, suddenly feeling sober. Could she tell him she was a virgin? Should she? Would he be angry? Was he even real..?

With furrowed brows, he released her wrist and slowly traced the slope of her hip.

“Tell me if I do something you don’t like,” he said.

Hermione met his captivating, pale eyes once more and was calmed. He may have been chosen for her by the strange magic of Hogwarts but being with him felt, and she was well aware of the cliché, right. Regardless, she couldn’t help but wonder if it was the enchantment of the room guiding his actions. Was he acting by choice? Full circle, was he real?

“Promise,” she hissed, unconsciously leaning closer to him.

He gently slid the silk gown up her thigh, fingers drifting in a teasing trail. A buzz of pleasure followed his touch. Emboldened, Hermione mirrored Lucius with a leisurely exploration of his chest. She grinned, watching her finger part its way through the salt and pepper patches of curls. He went still, watching her as she watched her hand. As her hand wandered towards the tie of his dressing robe, he pulled the knot and Hermione was treated to an unabashed view of Lucius in all of his glory.

Heat crawled up her neck. Before she could withdraw her hand, Lucius took her wrist and guided her to his erection.

Utterly won over by her curiosity, Hermione glanced between his face and the warm length of flesh she fondled. Lucius closed his eyes and sighed as she gently explored him. She was intrigued by the softness of the skin and contemplated sucking on him. Wizards enjoyed that, didn’t they?

“Now, you,” he said, disrupting Hermione’s inexperienced petting by swiftly sliding his hand under her silky gown to rest on her ribs.

With a shy bite of her bottom lip, Hermione sat up and pulled the negligee over her head.

Lucius’ indrawn breath and appreciative inspection of her bare body imbued her with more confidence.

With a growl, Lucius suddenly grabbed her, drawing her beneath him and pinning her, hands on her arms and knees between her legs.

“Go slow,” she whispered, anxiously.

“Of course,” he replied, leaning in to capture her lips.

Absorbed by Lucius’ talented mouth, Hermione mewed to feel him slipping against her nether lips, coating his erection with the evidence of her arousal. She turned her head, breaking their kiss, to gasp as he pressed against her, seeking entrance.

“You’re so tight,” he hissed.

Pressure increased at her crux, almost painful, but she widened her knees, encouraging him. Suddenly, she felt herself stretch enough to accommodate Lucius’ girth. He pushed himself deeper and she gasped as a sharp pain lit through her, startling her.

“Damn it, girl. You didn’t tell me you were a virgin,” Lucius growled through his teeth.

“It doesn’t matter,” Hermione breathed. The pain was subsiding as Lucius remained motionless. Hermione mulled the oddness of having a man so close and inside of her. Particularly one she never considered as a potential lover.

“Lucius,” she whispered, reaching up to touch his clenched jaw. “It’s alright.”

His features relaxed a bit and he leaned in to kiss her, again. His arms trembled but he held himself still within her and she felt her body soften, as well. Only once she was buzzing with desire, once more, did Lucius shift within her and the sensation was electric. Giddy pleasure shot through Hermione’s limbs, stoked hotter with each thrust of Lucius hips. Within moments, he began moving faster and harder, pressing deeper.

“Ah!” he gasped, signaling the start of his release.

Encouraged by his climax, Hermione suddenly tripped into black bliss, as well, clinging tightly to the body above her.

Upon emerging from the cocoon of climax, Hermione curled into the warm body beside her. She nestled her head upon his shoulder and felt his arm slip around her, holding her close. The heartbeat thumping under her ear slowed and she sighed in contentment as she fell asleep.

In the morning, Hermione was alone.

With an aching head and dry mouth, Hermione took stock of herself as she awoke. As pieces of her memory came together creating a clear picture of the night, she sat up.

_“Lucius Malfoy...” _she breathed.

If it weren’t for the tender state of her body, she’d have suspected the night a dream. Her breath caught as she recalled the smell of whisky on his lips and weight of his body on hers. Free of observation, Hermione fell back onto the bed, shuddering with the memory of pleasure. It had been incredible. Every caress, every nip, and every moan.

As she drew on the negligee, she wished she had proper robes – there was no telling who she might encounter in the corridors on her way back to her rooms. A flash of black cloth told her that the Room had provided, once more.

“Thank you,” she whispered, pausing to look about before slipping back to the real world.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning: Don't get used to this frequency of updates! (Although I do have the next chapter mostly written...)

Hermione spent the remaining few days of the Christmas holiday fretting about her encounter.

Had she truly summoned Lucius Malfoy from Azkaban?

If he wasn’t real, what was he?

Could magic produce a corporeal individual? She was fairly certain it could not.

Was it possible the Room of Requirement had stretched its abilities to meet her request? It couldn’t produce an individual. It simply couldn’t. There were ethical issues associated with summoning individuals and magic simply didn’t work that way. Of course, Lucius Malfoy was housed by another magical location. Might that have something to do with it?

Say it was Lucius Malfoy she summoned. Had he acted on his own? Did the Room convince him that he was attracted to her? More ethical issues! If it was the very wizard, might the Room have doused him with magic that confused his senses?

To say the least, Hermione’s thoughts left her distraught.

With the return of the students came the return of other Professors, as well. Hagrid and Neville, Hermione’s sole friends amongst the teaching staff, brought her stories of their visits with family which did nothing to ease her loneliness.

Neville had married Pansy Parkinson and Hagrid had an open invitation to Harry’s home. Regardless that Hermione had parted ways with Ron as friends, it was awkward to visit Harry and Ginny – Ron was constantly about with Lavender. Hermione no longer spoke much with any of them.

However, Neville had more experience with the Room of requirement than any living being Hermione knew. He had just set foot in the castle for the welcome back feast when Hermione began peppering him with questions.

“Hang on, Hermione,” he chortled and fondly grasped her gesticulating arm. “I haven’t seen you this excited about something since the war. What happened to you in the Room of Requirement?”

Neville guided her into the Great Hall and towards the professors’ tables. Students were sparse and Hermione could already smell the sumptuous feast cooking in the kitchens below; the train had just arrived at Hogsmeade Station and the rest of the students were on their way.

“Can the Room of Requirement summon a person?” Hermione asked in a low tone.

“No,” Neville shook his head. “Why? Who are you trying to summon?”

“I’m not trying to summon anyone,” Hermione said quickly. She wondered if it was Pansy’s influence that had sharpened Neville’s mind.

“It wasn’t humanly possible to require Harry more while we holed up in there…” he said softly, gaze misty with the memory.

Hermione wondered about Neville’s situation in the Room. Had he asked for Harry before or after entering? Of course, the Room had provided her with robes upon her wish and Lucius with a serving tray of alcohol, seemingly, upon his desire… Neville was right. They had needed Harry desperately. Of course, Harry had been busy handling other business…

“It didn’t give us food, either,” Neville added.

“That’s right. Aberforth supplied you with food,” Hermione recalled.

Neville nodded, parting from Hermione at the table for their usual spots.

Distracted, Hermione nodded to Headmistress McGonagall in response to her greeting and further pondered that Harry had not exactly been available to be magically whisked away by the Room of Requirement.

After dinner, Hermione’s feet took her to the seventh floor and she found herself staring at the empty wall opposite the tapestry showing Barnabas the Barmy trying to teach trolls to dance the ballet.

Should she attempt to summon Lucius Malfoy, again? Could she? It was worth a try… Besides, she was not under the influence of alcohol and had some questions for the wizard, assuming it really was him.

Three passes, focused on what she wanted, produced the door she recalled from the other night. Her hand was, again, damp, as she turned the handle. Despite wanting to chat with Lucius, she was aware of desiring him physically, as well.

It was with a mental huff that Hermione found herself in a negligee, once again, upon entering the room. A glance toward the fireplace set her heart to thumping; he was there, already lounging with a glass of amber liquor.

Hermione shut the door firmly behind her and joined the wizard, falling into the other chair.

“How lovely to see you, again,” he murmured.

Butterflies flitted through Hermione’s chest and limbs in response to the sound of his voice.

“I’ve got to know,” Hermione began haltingly. “Did you want to… To have intercourse with me?”

“I did.”

“It wasn’t against your will?”

“Of course not,” he replied, a line between his brows. 

“But why?”

“Are you unaware of your charms, Ms. Granger?”

Hermione frowned at his address. “Are you implying that you’re attracted to me, _Mr. Malfoy_?”

“Why, yes,” he purred.

Hermione frowned harder in disbelief. A wealthy, aristocratic pure-blood wizard, attracted to a small and brown Muggle-born witch?

“My dear, consider where you are and what you asked of the room.”

Hermione recalled her inebriated desires quite well. She wanted him living, available, and… Her ideal match.

She met his pale eyes and experienced a sharp pang of desire. Ideal match? They certainly connected physically. Considering Lucius without the prejudice that lead him to seek the eradication of Muggle-borns, she was attracted to him. But the wizard without his prejudice… Was it even possible?

“What could we have in common..?” she wondered aloud.

“More than you believe, I imagine,” he said, emptying his glass.

“You participated in Muggle baiting…”

“Yes,” Lucius answered in a dark tone.

“You tortured Muggles and Muggle-borns…” Hermione continued, ruthlessly.

Lucius hesitated, “Yes.”

“You murdered…” Hermione’s throat closed in revulsion.

Lucius narrowed his eyes. “Are you asking?”

Unsure she wanted an answer, Hermione couldn’t speak.

Lucius lifted a brow and clenched his jaw. “My actions undoubtedly contributed to death. Muggle-born, Muggles. Innocents, all.”

Horror crept up Hermione’s spine and she suddenly wanted away from him.

“And what of _your_ hands?” he hissed, leaning towards her.

Hermione remained silent, examining him and mulling the idea of their clashing ethics.

“What have you done to protect your family and friends..?” he asked bitterly.

“I killed in self-defense,” she snapped.

“So, did I,” he hissed.

She’d done what she needed to out of desperation, to get them before they got her. She’d reacted. After a moment of thought, she recognized that he’d done the same. How could she hold it against him?

“And, now?” she asked.

“Now, what?” he asked, his movement sharp as he refilled his glass.

“What will you do when you leave Azkaban?”

“I’m not planning to resurrect any dark wizards or witches…”

“How do you feel about Muggles?” Hermione asked blandly, ignoring his attempt at humor.

“And Muggle-borns..?” he asked with a glare.

The wizard was sharp; he knew exactly what she was asking. Hermione felt her face warm as she nodded.

“We all bleed the same,” he said, drinking deep.

“Indeed,” Hermione replied softly, her emotions settling as she came to terms with his logic. “I’m not convinced you’re real.”

“Is that so?”

Hermione nodded. “Does magic exist that could create a corporeal individual?”

“I don’t believe so,” he said, refilling his glass, again.

“But, here you seem to be.”

“At your desire,” he rumbled.

“The difference in our ages… The differences in our very ethics…”

“Our ethics,” Lucius repeated, lips thin. “In my opinion, our ethics appear quite similar.”

Hermione glanced at him out of the corner of her eye and suddenly wished she were drunk, again. She didn’t want to argue. She didn’t want to discuss ethics. She simply wanted to be held and cherished by someone who… Loved her.

Could Lucius Malfoy ever love her?

“Are you determined to argue?”

“Not at all,” Hermione whispered. How had he followed her thoughts?

“May I kiss you?” he asked.

“Take me to bed,” she countered, blushing.


	3. Chapter 3

“Good,” Lucius breathed. “Come here.”

Anxious to leave behind the turbulent discussion, Hermione stood and moved to stand before Lucius.

He gripped her wrist and pulled her down onto his lap, into a kiss that melted her knickers. His mouth worked hers until she was breathless.

“Tell me it isn’t just any witch will do for you,” Hermione panted as his lips and teeth nipped at the sensitive curve of her neck.

“It isn’t just any witch. It’s you,” he whispered between nibbles. “I only want you, Hermione.”

His assurance made her insides quiver.

“Lucius,” she breathed as his hands slid under her silky gown, smoothing over her skin, lifting the fabric and drawing it off over her head.

“Mm, say that again,” he hissed against her neck.

“Make me,” she teased, excited by the intent gleam in his eyes.

With a playfully lifted brow, Lucius guided her hands to clasp his neck. In but a moment, he shifted to untie his dressing robe and settled Hermione to straddle him.

Hands firmly gripping her hips, he directed her to impale herself, gasping, on his engorged erection.

“Lucius,” she purred, relishing the sensation of him inside of her. She was still a bit tender but any pain was quickly forgotten as he gently led her to rock her hips, controlling the depth and speed of his penetration. Sugar-coated fire shot through her limbs and honey through her veins.

“I won’t last long like this,” Lucius groaned, fingers gripping her hips tight.

“This was your idea,” Hermione replied with a smug grin as she slid him deep.

“Ah!” he gasped holding her still.

Hermione managed to lean towards him, eliciting from him another sharp intake of breath. Knowing he was so near, experiencing his agony, Hermione contracted her Kegel muscles. Nudged just beyond his control, Lucius ruthlessly directed her movements and they reached a vicious climax together.

**The next evening…**

“Professor Granger!”

Hearing her name above the din of students rushing through the corridors, Hermione turned and waved at Neville.

“Professor Longbottom,” she greeted, joining him in an alcove, out of the crush of pre-class movement.

“Listen, I was chatting with Sybill. She had an interesting perspective on the Room of Requirement and why it might produce a person for you.”

Hermione blinked at Neville, utterly gob smacked. How on earth had he deduced that?

“I’m not a complete idiot, you know,” he winked and stepped out into the dwindling crowd, presumably, to head for the greenhouses.

But, ugh. Trelawney?

Sybill Trelawney had returned to recluse-like behavior, remaining in her tower rooms even for meals unless specifically called out by the Headmistress. Hermione hadn’t spoken a word to the witch since storming from her classroom so many years ago. Engaging the woman in conversation might prove challenging. Did she hold a grudge? Sarcastically, Hermione imagined it depended upon her aura or the cards.

If Hermione had learned anything from her time with Harry, it was to trust her friends and investigate leads when a question needed answering. Hermione trusted Neville. She would need to swallow her disgust for Divination and attempt a conversation with Professor Trelawney. No longer a hot-headed third-year student under excruciating pressure because she’d taken-on too much, would be helpful in keeping her temper.

After classes were over for the day, Hermione made the tedious climb to Trelawney’s tower. The space was as dark and smoky as she remembered. Instantly, her senses rebelled, telling her to escape while she could. Memories of the lessons and their uselessness churned in her gut. How desperately did she want to hear this witch’s theory? Was learning it worth the physical discomfort and dent to her pride to suffer Trelawney’s bizarre and sham-like performance?

Thinking better of taking a deep breath, Hermione simply waited for her eyes to adjust to the dim room and found herself subject to Trelawney’s magnified gaze.

“The Eye spoke of your coming…”

Hermione fought the urge to snort.

“Hello, Professor,” she said.

Sybill seemed to have aged more than her years. Her hair had all gone grey and the thinness of her limbs contributed to the appearance of frailty.

“I has your dinner, Madam,” chirruped the unmistakable squeaky voice of a house-elf. “Oh! You has a guest! Is you wanting dinner, too?”

Weighing the kindness of the house-elf and the slight apprehension in Sybill’s gaze, Hermione made a hasty decision and nodded.

“If you don’t mind, Professor, I will join you.”

The older witch lifted her brows and gestured towards the nearest of the low tables. The house-elf set down a platter and promised to return with another.

“I’m not in need of an apology, my dear,” Sybill intoned as she knelt.

With a grin, Hermione knelt, as well. She had, indeed, been about to offer an apology for her behavior so many years ago.

“As a student, you were in a situation doomed for failure.”

“I was eager to learn as much as I could,” Hermione supplied.

“Temperance in all things,” Sybill replied sagely.

To prevent herself from retorting to the cliché’ out of annoyance, Hermione clenched her hands together.

“I was speaking with Neville about the Room of Requirement and he said that you have a theory about it. I’m quite interested to hear more.”

“Ah, Professor Longbottom. He has some potential as a seer but fails to recognize the signs… That is the way of things…”

Theatrics were as essential to Trelawney as breathing. Hermione would need to be patient. When Sybill offered her tea, Hermione accepted. The other witch took a sip of her tea before continuing. Inside, Hermione was a live wire of exasperation.

“You are familiar with a bit of soul magic, are you not?” The dotty witch asked suddenly.

“Some,” Hermione replied, gaze fixed on Sybill, imploring her for a bit of information that wasn’t completely mad.

“There are some buildings, some sacred places, full of enchantments and spells, where witches and wizards spend time… They experience bits of their lives in these places and leave behind a whisper of their souls.”

Hermione didn’t want to run away screaming, yet. She mulled the other witch’s words and began making mental connections.

“Hogwarts castle has a soul,” she breathed.

Sybill nodded, looking pleased but still wary of Hermione’s judgement.

“The castle _knows_ you… It _knows_ you saved it from a life of dark magic...”

“And that’s why the Room of Requirement summoned a person for me…”

The house-elf appeared with a second platter.


	4. Chapter 4

_‘I assure you that I am quite real and my actions coerced by nothing more than my own desires. – Lucius’_

Hermione’s immediate thought in response to the owl was ‘How would you know?’

The parchment bore another message: **All contents of correspondence to and from prisoners incarcerated at Azkaban are subject to review by Ministry of Magic officials.**

Then, the significance of the letter began to sink in. Her stomach seemed to fall into her feet. It was no trick. The owl was not sent by the _soul of Hogwarts castle_. Her heart fluttered and her fingers tightened on the parchment. Lucius Malfoy had written to prove himself to her. And a Ministry official had almost certainly read and recorded it. She grinned, wondering what they would make of the notorious Death Eater sending such a cryptic message to Muggle-born Hermione Granger.

_Merlin, he was real. _

There was absolutely no question, now.

Hermione gave a sardonic grin, wondering what the hell Hogwarts was thinking pairing her with Lucius Malfoy. She supposed the castle knew its students better than any person; witnessing activities and behavior that might go unnoticed by others, even ghosts. She reminded herself that he was the best match who also happened to be available. Her smile turned gentle. Of course, the more time she spent with Lucius, the more compatible they seemed to be.

Fantasy shattered with finality, Hermione moved through the motions of her daily routine, conducting classes and herding students. Inside, she fretted.

Lucius Malfoy.

_Really Lucius Malfoy. _

It was intimidating to think of him as _him_. Death Eater. To be fair, former one and paying his debt to society. Draco Malfoy’s father. Currently. No, mustn’t focus on _that_.

Why on earth had Lucius seduced her the first night in the Room? Possibly, he was bored. What if he didn’t want to see her once he was free? Mother of Merlin! What if he did? How was she going to fit someone into her life? She had yet to succeed on that count.

Perhaps, she was better off simply enjoying the moments she had with him in the Room.

Three days passed and, belatedly, Hermione wondered if Lucius expected a reply to his letter. She had no idea what to write. Besides, it was growing a bit late to reply.

The letter was proof that Lucius was, indeed, Lucius; and, Hermione was a bit apprehensive about making contact again; she could no longer pretend what took place in the Room was only fantasy.

Another day and night passed since Hermione received Lucius’ proclamation of truth before her desire to see him overruled her trepidation.

It appeared Hermione was not alone in her desire. Upon setting foot into the Room, Lucius pulled her into his arms and into a devouring kiss. With only a small portion of her brain, Hermione managed to set down the tray she was levitating before Lucius lifted her, guiding her legs about his waist and carried her straight to the bed. They pulled at each other’s flimsy garments and Hermione moaned to feel his hot skin against hers.

In mere moments, Hermione straddled Lucius and guided him into her slick depths. He groaned, hands flexing on her hips. The sight of Lucius under her, his pale skin against the white sheets, his white hair fanned across the pillows, flooded her insides with a warm sensation. His pale eyes asked a question to which Hermione responded with a grin before leaning forward to press her lips to his. A moan rumbled from Lucius; Hermione felt it before she heard it, under her palms pressed to his chest and against her mouth on his. Encouraged by his want, Hermione rode him until they both reached a pinnacle of black bliss.

When Hermione might have retrieved the tray she’d brought with her, Lucius held onto her, tucking her against his length. Being desired so deeply was heady. Hermione felt her inner glow brighten, as if some hidden strength or power had ignited within her.

With a chuckle, she relaxed in the wizard’s arms, content to rest there. After a moment, he shifted as if uncomfortable.

“I want you, again,” he whispered into her hair.

She felt him behind her, already hard. A hand gently guided her top leg over. Hermione gasped to feel the velvet head of his erection pressing between her thighs and into her slick slit. The vigor of their first session had left her raw and his penetration elicited a bit of a sting. Regardless, Hermione positioned herself to allow him deeper access. He was hitting her insides at all new angles and she was breathless within a couple of thrusts.

“Ah, yeeeeessss…” she hissed, gripping the sheets tight as Lucius continued fucking her from behind.

When Lucius finally reached climax, Hermione was mindlessly urging him on, lost in the thralls of multiple orgasms.

Normally, they fell asleep together but Hermione was reluctant to sleep; she wasn’t ready to part from Lucius.

Subtly casting ablutionary spells on herself, Hermione shyly drew her nightgown over her head and tried to remember where she’d left the tray. Thighs shaking with the slightest tremor, she moved slowly towards the door.

“Hermione?”

“Just getting something,” she replied. “There it is!”

Levitating the tray towards the bed, Hermione felt heat climb her neck to pool in her cheeks.

“What is this..?” Lucius purred, sitting up as she set the tray across his lap.

“I thought you might enjoy something other than the fare of Azkaban,” she grinned.

“You thought right,” he replied, popping a slice of apple into his mouth. He chewed with relish and picked at the snacks Hermione had obtained from the house-elfs in the kitchens.

Stirred and electrically-aware that she was in bed with and had been fucked to within an inch of her life – twice – by Lucius Malfoy, she could only watch him through her lashes. He chewed as lazily as he spoke and his fingers looked as strong as they felt.

“I am pleased to see you, again,” he murmured, catching her gaze.

Why did his pale gaze now steal her wits?

“I could tell,” she chuckled after a heartbeat.

“I’ve been thinking about how things might change in a couple of months…”

“Change?” Hermione asked, startled.

“When I’m… No longer a prisoner…”

“Four more months,” Hermione reminded herself aloud.

“Yes,” Lucius agreed, watching her closely.

“I haven’t given it much thought,” she said honestly. Her heart sped. Was he suggesting some sort of ongoing _understanding_? Why did the idea make her nervous?

Something of her uncertainty must have shown on her face; Lucius said nothing more. He removed the tray and beckoned her close with a saucy lift of his brow.


	5. Chapter 5

_‘Please write’_

Hermione traced the words with her fingertip, imagining the slender quill in Lucius large hand as he wrote. Thinking of him always distracted her… She was entranced by his physical appearance and mannerisms, picturing what he looked like performing mundane tasks: Reading the morning paper, buttoning his shirt, unzipping his trousers…

A peal of girlish laughter tore Hermione from her inappropriate musings and she cast a glance over the activities of breakfast time in the Great Hall. Owls had just delivered the post and students were animatedly sharing their gifts and letters.

Smiling softly, Hermione returned to the scroll in her hands. Lucius wanted to hear from her. He wanted to connect with her outside of the Room.

Well, Hermione was nothing if not prolific.

She wrote to him and he replied.

Between classes and before meals, Hermione wrote letter after letter to Lucius. She wrote about her students and her research and frustrations with former friends. And, most evenings, she met with him in the Room.

.~*~.

“Hello, Hermione.”

Two months ago, the sound of his voice might have moved Hermione to anger or grief; however, she was more interested in her burgeoning relationship with Lucius than people with no investment in her friendship. Harry Potter’s abandonment of her cut deep but no longer festered.

“Headmistress,” she greeted, then turned to Harry. “Potter.”

McGonagall lifted her brows. Apparently, their estrangement was news to their old mentor. She gestured for Hermione to take a seat.

“Mr. Potter has asked to interview you regarding official Ministry business, Professor Granger. It is your right that I remain as a witness.”

Hermione offered Minerva a warm smile and shook her head. She had a pretty good idea why Harry Potter, Ministry Auror, wanted to interview her.

“Thank you, Headmistress. I don’t mind meeting with him alone.”

“I’ll leave you to it, then.” Minerva replied archly. She climbed to her feet with the aid of her cane and moved steadily and determinedly out of the office.

Hermione steeled herself and turned her attention to Harry. The fine lines at the corners of his eyes and mouth tightened.

“As you are undoubtedly aware, the Ministry monitors the correspondence of prisoners. I’ve been asked to investigate the nature of the letters exchanged between you and Lucius Malfoy.”

Hermione said nothing. He hadn’t asked a question and she wasn’t about to volunteer anything to a representative of a two-faced organization like the Ministry of Magic.

Pink tinged Harry’s face and Hermione was glad of any discomfort he was suffering for this ridiculous ‘interview.’

“There was one letter, in particular, in which Malfoy alluding to having seen you in person…”

Frowning, Hermione immediately remembered the letter. Subconsciously or due to the sheer delight they gave her, she’d committed every word Lucius wrote to her memory. The strokes of his quill were imprinted on her very soul. He had, indeed, expressed his interest in seeing her again. It was the ‘again’ that betrayed them.

“According to Azkaban records, you have never visited him.”

Hermione lifted her brows, still waiting to be asked a question. She and Harry studied each other in wary silence.

“To what encounter with you is Lucius Malfoy referring?”

Hermione owed the Ministry, nothing. She owed Harry, nothing. Finally, hating her prickly emotions, Hermione cleared her throat.

“Our correspondence contains neither crime nor any plot to commit one.”

Harry chuckled and nodded, eyes filling with warmth.

“I had a feeling you’d say something like that.”

Despite her resolve to remain stony and indifferent, the wizard’s expression of humor triggered nostalgia and dissolved some of Hermione’s anger.

“I’ll put that in my report,” he said. “Word for word.”

Hermione met Harry’s gaze and wondered what was keeping him in his chair. Weren’t they done?

“I wish you well, Hermione,” he said softly.

Ugh, the bastard. She’d loved him once. Just as they’d become friends. How could any witch resist his sincerity and pure heart? But he was preoccupied with Voldemort and then interested in the popular girl. Ron had been a convenient focus for Hermione’s affection.

“Thank you,” she replied.

“I miss you. Ginny and I, we both miss you.”

Silence fell. Hermione didn’t want to talk about it. She didn’t want to explain how Ron had crushed her. It was likely Harry and Ginny didn’t even know she’d found him in bed with Lavender and walked out. Ronald Weasley was a consummate liar. There was no telling how he’d explained Hermione’s sudden departure to live at Hogwarts.

“Perhaps we, the three of us, could meet for dinner one night at the Three Broomsticks,” he offered, a note of real hope in his tone.

“Perhaps,” she answered with grudging commitment.

For a moment, Hermione was pushed backwards in time by the wizard’s look of optimism. They might have been Second Years, sitting down for supper in the Great Hall. When Hermione smiled back, she felt happiness; an emotion she had stifled and all but forgotten.

Harry seemed to understand that their moment was over and that pressing further could ruin the fragile bridge he’d just built. He stood and fondly squeezed Hermione’s shoulder on his way out.

The moment he was gone, Hermione hurried to her rooms to draft a quick letter to Lucius. Undoubtedly, he would be under close scrutiny and she could no longer risk summoning him away from his cell at night. Her insides shivered and her eyes filled with tears in fear for his safety.

‘_Dear Lucius,_

_I’ve been visited by a Ministry official regarding our correspondence. I will arrange to visit you as soon as possible._

_With affection, Hermione_’

Thankfully, Lucius was intelligent enough to understand what she didn’t spell-out. She simply couldn’t risk summoning him to the Room, again.

As Hermione hurried to the Owlery, she pondered not being with Lucius in the evenings and a brick settled in her gut.

Their evenings in the Room were over.

Hogwarts had done all it could for her.

If she wanted to see Lucius, it would be up to her, now.

Damn the Ministry and their monitoring of their prisoners…


	6. Chapter 6

Three days later, Hermione made the multi-Apparition trip to Azkaban to see Lucius.

Upon arriving, Hermione waited in line with five other visitors. Aurors logged her name, accepted her wand and assigned her to station six.

“No physical contact and no wandless magic. If you are found to be misrepresenting yourself or trigger the Sneakoscopes, you will be removed and ineligible for future visitation,” recited a haggard, heavily-bearded Auror.

The stations consisted of numbered chairs facing what appeared to be a solid wall. Hermione followed the lead of the other visitors and took the seat she’d been assigned. Within a few minutes, the wall became transparent and Hermione found herself looking at Lucius through a glass pane.

“Lucius!” she gushed, relieved to see him looking quite well. It was almost painful to see him and not be able to touch him. He wore grey prison-issue robes but he was clean and appeared healthy.

She was treated to his slow grin and warm gaze.

“Thank you for coming,” he replied.

“I want to offer an apology,” Hermione began.

“No,” he said, cutting her off. “No apologies.”

“You asked me about the future,” Hermione tried again. Lucius’ mouth became a thin line but he allowed her to keep speaking. “I’m afraid my reply may have hurt you…”

“Hermione,” he said, glancing at the wizard to his right and leaning towards the glass as if not wanting to be overheard.

Hermione followed suit and leaned towards him, as well.

“I think of you constantly,” he whispered. “Each of your letters is like sunlight in my cell. And each of our…encounters, like a dream.”

While his words sent bubbles of pleasure zipping through her, Hermione couldn’t help her thoughts.

“But, won’t you want to reconnect with your family and carry on with your life once you have your freedom?”

“There’s Draco, of course. If I ever had a friend, it was Severus and he’s gone.”

“I see,” Hermione replied. Draco would probably shit Quaffles when he found out about her and his father.

“I suppose you’re not familiar with the life of a wealthy, ostracized bachelor… All fame and parties…” Lucius drawled.

A giggle escaped Hermione’s throat despite her hesitation. There was little Lucius would detest more than to be a centerpiece at parties.

“My _only_ wish is to see you. To spend time with you…”

Feeling more confident, Hermione lifted a brow. “Outside of a bed?”

“I’m open to the possibility…” Lucius purred.

“But I live and work at Hogwarts,” she replied.

“I could visit you…”

“Yes.”

“I could take a place in Hogsmeade.”

Hermione’s heart fluttered at the idea. “You needn’t go to any trouble.”

“Trouble? I want to see you. Only you.”

“Very well,” Hermione replied, mind taking her from the conversation.

“Unless you would rather not.”

“I’m… I’m a bit scared,” she said, all honesty. With the barrier between them, Hermione felt able to more openly share her fears.

“Of me?” he asked, startled.

“Yes. No. I mean, what if you don’t want me anymore once you’re free and have options?”

“There is only you,” he repeated, darkly.

“Not some sense of obligation?”

“That’s a ridiculous notion!” Lucius snapped, standing.

“Is it?” Hermione asked, watching him.

“I’ve said before… My actions are my own,” his tone had turned sharp.

“Alright,” Hermione replied softly.

“Damn it, Hermione. I’m in love with you!” he growled.

Sudden tears welled in Hermione’s eyes. “And, I’m in love with you.”

“It means nothing if you cannot trust me,” he said, moving close to the glass.

“I understand,” Hermione replied, voice ragged with unvoiced sobs. “I’m terrified.”

“But, why?” he whispered.

“What if you change your mind? I’m Muggle-born…” she hissed. They’d never spoke of it; of his past, of his opinions… In the deepest recesses of her mind, Hermione worried that she was simply convenient for him. He hadn’t any options.

“Hermione,” he said, voice strong. “Look at me.”

Hermione met his gaze, embarrassed by her insecurities.

“I’m old enough to be your father. I foolishly served a dark wizard intent on dividing wizard-kind between pure-blood and mixed. You have no reason to trust me.”

If Hermione wasn’t already in love with him, she might have fallen based on his confession. She was not alone in fear. She stood and moved close to the glass.

“Lucius, I miss you…”

“I miss you, too, Darling,” he breathed.

.~*~.

The next morning, a bout of nausea forced Hermione to the nearest toilet between the Great Hall and her first class. She took a moment to settle herself and wash her face after losing her breakfast, wondering if she’d caught something as a result of her trip to Azkaban. No other symptoms made themselves known as her day progressed.

To Hermione’s consternation, the same thing happened the following morning. It took her longer than it should have to figure out what her illness really meant. Once she realized it, her knees almost gave out and she braced herself on the sink to keep her feet.

“Fuck,” echoed around the empty bathroom.

How in Merlin’s name was she going to tell Lucius?

What if he didn’t want to be a father, again?

Perhaps, she didn’t need to tell him. At least, not right away. Hermione smoothed her palm across her abdomen, eyes alight with wonder. Did she really have a baby growing inside of her? Was it really a surprise considering how many nights she’d spent with Lucius? The real surprise was the failure of the contraceptive potion. She’d taken it every three days, without fail. She supposed it was as susceptible to failure as many other contraceptive methods were.

Unless Hogwarts was interfering, again. The castle might very well know she wanted a family.

Hermione huffed at her thoughts as she hurried for her classroom. The room of Requirement may have summoned a person for her but she doubted it could interfere with the effects of a potion. Besides, she wasn’t entirely certain she wasn’t suffering a complaint of indigestion. She’d brew a pregnancy test potion during lunchtime to be sure.


	7. Chapter 7

The Aurors guarding Azkaban grew to know Hermione by sight; she visited every weekend that she could.

Near constantly, she wondered if she should tell Lucius about the baby. She hardly knew how to approach the subject but as the fetus grew, so did her figure. Soon, she’d be out of time.

What if he didn’t want another child?

As always, seeing Lucius filled Hermione with contentment.

“Hello, Darling,” he greeted.

“Lucius,” she replied self-consciously drawing her cloak across her front.

“I have some news,” Lucius offered, pale gaze watching her movements.

“Yes?” she prompted, eager to distract him. His mind was as sharp as hers. If she wasn’t careful, he’d guess her secret before she could reveal it.

“Draco has promised to visit.”

“I’m so glad to hear it,” Hermione gushed. It was a point of agony for Lucius that his son hadn’t responded to letters or been to see him. “If you know when, warn me and I’ll visit another day.”

“I’ve less than thirty days left,” he added.

Torn, Hermione could offer only a weak smile.

“What is that?” he asked, face eclipsed by worry. “You haven’t been yourself the last few times I’ve seen you.”

Hermione’s heart skipped.

It was time.

“I don’t know how to tell you this…” she confessed.

“You’ve met someone,” he hissed.

“No,” she dismissed, shaking her head. “It’s your age.”

“I’m hardly at death’s door.”

“No, that’s not it either, really. I’m not stating this well, at all.”

“Hermione, just tell me whatever it is…”

With a deep breath, Hermione stood and let her cloak fall to her sides. She slid a hand across the gentle bump of her stomach and stared Lucius in the eye.

“I want to have children…”

Lucius stood, as well. “I’d love to give them to you.”

Relief flooded Hermione and she finally allowed herself a smile. “That’s good, then. Because you’ve given me one…”

**Epilogue**

“I’ve never decorated a home, Lucius. I’m not really what you would call domestic,” Hermione confessed, following him through the rooms of the home he’d purchased in Hogsmeade.

“I thought this one for _his_ room,” Lucius announced, gesturing at another empty room with pride.

“It’s wonderful, Lucius. But, are you listening to me?” Hermione could have dissolved into giggles at how excited Lucius was to be free and in a new home. But she didn’t trust her hormones to advise her on correct behavior so settled for grinning.

“Every word, my dear,” he replied, pulling her into his arms. “If you’ve no interest in settling the house, I’ll see to it.”

“You don’t mind?”

In response, Lucius pressed a kiss to her temple. “I just want you to be happy here.”

“You want me to live with you?” Hermione asked, following him as he made towards the kitchens.

“Was that not understood?” Lucius asked with a sharp glance back at her.

“I didn’t want to assume.”

“Hermione,” he said, pulling her close again, in the middle of the corridor. “I most formally invite you to live in this home with me. It is as much yours as mine. And his.”

A blush warmed her face as Lucius slipped his palm across her growing belly. They were finally together, without fear, without subterfuge.

“Lucius, I will be happy no matter where I live, as long as I am with you.”

“Have I shown you our bedroom..?” he purred.


End file.
